


I've seen your heart (And It's not yours)

by StarryNightandSunflowers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, George is flummoxed, Ginny loves Ron very much, Good friend Ron needs a hug, Harry is a Little Shit, Horcruxes, I lied there's plenty of angst to get around, Listen I had to read a fic where the family learns about the locket, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter), a tiny little splash of angst, and their long lasting effects, but a loyal little shit nonetheless, coudn't find had to write it myself, in this house we stan Ronald Weasley, or 15 it's yet to be decided, the whole gang shows up - Freeform, weasley is our king, with a nice side serving of hapiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNightandSunflowers/pseuds/StarryNightandSunflowers
Summary: "'You mean to say,' George started with a quiet and very dangerous edge to his voice ,'that Ronnie dear blames himself for being influenced by a dangerous piece of Voldy's soul when he was underfed, on the run, and recovering from a splinching that nearly killed him ?''He doesn't see it that way.' Harry was starting to feel less and less angry and suddenly very aware of what a hoard of highly impulsive Weasleys can do. Ginny had not said anything for the past five minutes; that alone had an impressive flammability potential. "_________________In which The Weasley grieves, Ron tries too hard to keep everyone happy, Molly is not fooled in the least, Ginny explosively deals, all of them learn about the locket, and nobody is angrier than Harry.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 40
Kudos: 91





	1. Night flights and stolen brooms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody. Thank you for stumbling upon this little story.  
> Quarantine has made me discover new ways to cope with boredom. By new ways I mean falling back into my old hyper-fixations, and treating Ron Weasley right is one of those.  
> Enjoy !

It seemed as if Ron was everywhere at once.

If Molly was not convinced that the wards around The Burrow prevented apparition ( a vestige of the war she was not yet ready to give up), she would have suspected him of abusing it. She was, to some extend, grateful for it; Ron was away for so long, always putting himself in the worst kind of mischief and danger, that she was glad he was now within eyesight.

He seemed to always know, too, when somebody was feeling down.

She knew that he was often tinkering away with Arthur in the shed with his muggle treasures, because his father closed himself more often then not in there these days, alone, since the war, since - the funeral. She also knew he often flooed Hermione in the dead of night, to make sure she was alright, that she was patching things up with her parents who had a lot of difficulties accepting her actions, that the nightmares were not too hard to deal with for the couple of weeks they were apart. She saw him bringing up food to George, who wouldn’t leave thei- his room, and forcing him to eat in a great demonstration of how exactly he could outshout anybody. She saw him waving a disgruntled hand when he spotted Ginny and Harry flying in the backyard. She saw him serving a tightly lipped Percy a cup of tea, with a half hearted glare and a pat on the back. She saw him helping Bill with the protective wards around the house, impersonating Charlie to make Ginny smile, cook breakfast with her in the morning because he knew she couldn’t really bare to be alone, even for such mundane tasks.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, really, when he asked her, Harry shyly and begrudgingly standing behind him, to teach them how to knit ; that the trademark Weasley jumpers were all a little too tight and they couldn’t really wait for Christmas to come. She had not fully understood how much all of it was very much orchestrated for Harry - for her - until much later, when she spotted Harry’s hands getting steadier around his forks and spoons. She didn’t say anything, though, grateful for the peaceful distraction. And if they destroyed the yarn, ended up bickering with Ginny, or poking each other’s knees with the needles, so be it. It was not much of a loss, anyway.

What Molly did not decipher yet, though, was how Ron knew exactly the moment she went downstairs in the early hours of the morning, gazing at her magical clock ; at the hand that was resolutely fixed on dead. Ron would always, unfailingly, come down, make tea, shepherd her outside, and talk away. He’d tell her all about how it was unfair the way Hermione’s parent treated her sometimes, mumble that he missed her, complain about how Ginny made him fall off his broom for teasing Harry (completely justified jokes, thank you), brag about how Arthur nearly figured out how elek-tricity worked - whatever that was - and grimace enviably about how Bill and Fleur should be put in solitary for still being so disgustingly and visibly in love.

Molly forgot sometimes, in the space of a few seconds, caught up in his too loud displays of warmth, that he had seen things, too.

She did get reminded, abruptly. She caught him pick at his scars, once. She saw him startle and bring a wand to Charlie’s neck so fast you could hardly blink. Saw him frown, then squeeze his lips in a forced little thing you cannot really call a smile. He’d usually cover his little slips with a bad joke, and resume stitching the family together tighter and tighter.

It got her wondering if he allowed himself the same kindness he was showing them. If he allowed any time for himself at all. To grieve, if not yet to heal.

‘You’re thinking so hard it brought me down from the attic, Mum.’ Ron’s voice was so unexpected Molly nearly poured her entire cup down her gown. She vaguely heard him apologize.

‘It’s nothing Ronnie, I really can’t be that surprised to see you at this time of the night.’

Ron’s small grimace at the mention of his nickname quickly morphed into a smirk. He burrowed his hands in his pockets before answering her.

‘ Yeah, I’m a Mum-is-awake sneakoscope, I’m just special that way.’

‘ I’ve always wondered how you knew.’

‘ Not giving away my secrets now, am I ? One Chosen One is already too much for the wizarding world to handle.’

She smacked him on his shoulder for the cheeky eyebrows and wiggling fingers. She missed how she could reach the back of his head, a few years back.

Centuries ago.

He gazed at the window thoughtfully before looking back at her.

‘Oh no Ron, I don’t like that glint in your eye ! ’

‘Oh come on, you don’t even know what I’m asking ! ’

Molly rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re up to no good, I just know it.’

But Ron just walked around her and put his hands on her back, effectively succeeding in pushing her outside and towards the broom shed despite her protests.

‘Dad told me yesterday you used to be really good a flying.’

Molly looked affronted. ‘ ‘ _used to be_ ’ ?! I’ll have you know that my children inherited their quidditch abilities from the Prewett side !’

She realized a second too late, when she looked at Ron’s face smiling too wide, a brow raised, that she walked right into his trap.

‘I must have inherited mine from dad’s side, then.’

‘ Oh come off it, Ginny told me you were good when you weren’t feeling like the word was watching.’

‘Hang on, Ginny _actually_ said I was good ?!’

Molly just smiled at his surprised face and patted his cheek. ‘Don’t rub it in tomorrow, now.’

‘ I would never dream of it.’ The little twitch of his lips told her otherwise. ‘ Right, you can have the Cleensweep, and I’ll nick Harry’s Firebolt. He’ll just have to deal with it.’

‘Oh Ron, I’m not sure about this’

'About taking a fly ‘round the house with your youngest and dearest boy ?’

She pursed her lips. ‘Come on mum’, he said, bending down and taking her chin in his hand, ‘for the Prewett pride ! It’s such a nice night, isn’t it ?’

It really was, not a speck of wind and stars glittering away for miles and miles in the night sky. ‘Okay, then.’

Ron nodded, making no comment on her wobbly smile, before letting her climb on her broom.

‘WAIT, wait, I have a better idea, take the Firebolt - no, take it, you trust me, don’t you ?’

Well there was no really arguing that, was there. Huffing a little at his exuberant behaviour, she had just positioned herself on the broom when Ron jumped in behind her and kicked the ground, hard.

‘Ron what are you- Ron - RONALD!’

But it was too late; they were already zooming through the air.

And quite suddenly she was giggling, screaming, and then laughing out loud. It burst out of her, unbidden, and she hiccuped into a squeal when Ron took a sharp turn.

‘Enjoying yourself, Prewett?’

‘Can’t this broom get any faster ?’ She bellowed back, and she knew he heard her for the answering bark of laugh.

‘Sure, hang on tight! ’

The night air felt good, so good on Molly’s clammy skin, and she knew she was half blinding Ron with her hair, that she should be ashamed of being spotted wearing her sleepwear in the sky, but she was laughing for what felt like the first time in centuries, and her thoughtful little boy was strong and alive, if a little bony, behind her. Molly squeezed Ron’s wrists in front of her, felt him tighten his arms around her in answer. She looked over her shoulder to catch the mirth in his eyes, his lifted eyebrow, the comforting tilt of his lips. The son that gave and gave and gave. She blinked away misty eyes ; this should be commited to memory.

Molly loved her baby boy so, so much.

It was over too soon. It felt like they were up in the air for a only a few stolen minutes. She knew, though, it must have been at least an hour before Ron decelerated and landed near the pond.

‘So, thrilling, isn’t it? ’ Ron said, giving her a hand she immediately swatted away to get down.  
‘I’m not so old you have to help me down a broom’ Molly eyed the Firebolt for a flickering second, ignoring Ron mouthing something suspiciously along the lines of "got my pride form somewhere". ‘We could maybe … get away with using it another time, right ? Harry wouldn’t mind, would he ? Oh stop laughing Ron, we didn’t even ask him this time, RONALD !’

He was already too far gone to hear her admonish him, bended in half and clutching his stomach. She smacked him again, this time properly upside the head, crossing her arms and bitting her lips in a valiant effort to keep looking stern.

‘I take it you’re not disappointed.’

She shook her head, and let her arms fall back to her sides. So much for looking stern.

‘ I’ll never be disappointed by anything you do, Ron.’

He stopped his strides for only a short fraction of seconds, looking away from her.

‘ I wouldn’t be so sure.’

‘ What?’

‘Nothing, Mum. Ready to sleep ?’

Ron was walking in front of her now, back to the burrow. Fumbling from foot to foot a bit before following him, she wondered if she really had heard him right, if she should ask him more about it despite his obvious attempt at changing the subject and hiding away from her. She started folding and unfolding her fingers together in a ghost of her familiar knitting motions, and after a long bout of silence, she decided enough was enough.

‘Ron ?'  
'Yeah ? '  
'How come you always know when I’m awake?’

A sigh. A weak upturning of the lips.

’Told you, freaky sneakoscope.’  
‘You never seem to actually get some rest,’ She continued as if he never spoke at all.‘ you’re always awake, doing something. Anything.’

Her fingers spun together even faster at the silence stretching a tad too long for her liking.

‘You’ve been helping me, a lot. Everybody, really. You must know that, and we’re grateful, too. But, do you - I don’t think - I mean, did you give yourself some time, to… to deal with things?’

It was so unlike her to beat around the bush that her fingers suddenly stopped moving. They were already in the cramped living room. She had said it now, thought, her piece. It was all in the open. He should have known she’d be coming for him, really, if he knew anything about her at all.

Being distraught at the death of one son does not make her blind to the feelings of the others.

Ron eyes kept going back and forth from the carpet to the staircase. Her time was running short. Before she tried to add anything, he spoke again, facing her this time, strangely collected and closed off. Molly squeezed her hands against her gown; her baby boy was nothing if not an open book to read.

‘Mum, I’m fine, really, you don’t need to worry.’  
‘But-‘  
‘No, mum. I’m fine. I promise.’

She wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight, then. And if the tight set of his shoulders and the way he hid his hands in the depth of his pockets was anything to get by, it was going to take a little bit more of coercing. A good chocolate cake, she decided, the next day first thing in the morning. A good cup of the disgustingly sweet tea he liked. Another dawn when he was up before her, just the two of them.

‘Goodnight mum, try to get some rest, I do like my breakfast ready when I wake-‘  
‘But Ronnie’ she really couldn’t help herself saying, ‘if you want to talk, or to escape a little, or just some company, I’ll be there. I always find you in the living room at night. I know it must also be because you are often here anyway.’

It was visibly not the outcome he expected from this little adventure. Steadily, however, his guarded frown eased into resigned, gentler lines, and she was struck by how tired - exhausted - he looked, now that he was allowing her so close.

‘We could even nick Harry’s broom again. I feed him, he’ll do as I say.’

That did steal a little incredulous smile from Ron, so Molly counted it as a victory.

‘Cheers, Mum. Glad you liked flying with me.’

‘I loved it. Now off you go, it’s past your bedtime’

He rolled his eyes, and just like that, the tension vanished.

‘And I’m past the age for bedtime’

‘I feed you, I tell you when you sleep, young man.’

‘ yeah, yeah, Harry's the only one who'd half-believe that threat, the poor twat. Anyway, goodnight.’

When Molly got back up to her room that night and slipped under the thin sheets, she was greeted by a small frown and anxious sleepy mumbling. She merely squeezed Arthur’s hand and tried to sleep through the thoughts circling in her mind like vultures.

It seemed as if Ron was everywhere at once.

If she was not convinced that the wards around The Burrow prevented apparition, she would have suspected him of abusing it.

She saw him startle and bring a wand to Charlie’s neck so fast you could hardly blink.

Ron never slept.

Why was he convinced she’d be disappointed in him ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written that in one setting, like the absolute indulging word vomit this really is. Glad it's off my chest (and brain).  
> Do let me know if you want to read the rest, or where you think I can improve.
> 
> Next up : the Weasleys learn and Harry gets rightfully angry (for a change, the little shit).


	2. Champions of loyalty and Seekers of truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all !  
> Thank you for you support, I sincerely hope this chapter lives up to your expectation.  
> The confrontation finally happens !

‘You ought to stop looking so lovesick, Ron, it’s not going to make Hermione come any faster. And honestly, it’s making me want to throw up a bit’

It’d all started as an excellent day. Mrs Weasley had decided for reasons that remained obscure that they all deserved chocolate cake for breakfast. Harry gorged himself, and didn’t even run up to the bathroom to be sick this time. They had all played quidditch ( George included), until Mrs Weasley called them down with alarmed cries of sun-blocking spells and sons prompt to frying. Hermione’s letter, saying that she succeeded in escaping her parent’s mixed feelings for what remained of the week, came just before a particularly delicious lunch. Ron had been looking longingly towards the apparition point for such a long - albeit humorous - time that Harry took pity on him and decided a distraction was overdue. 

July’s burning sun was harsh on their naked shoulders, but the pond’s shallow water looked inviting enough and Ron was unashamed to take off his shirt, for once. Still, the urge to mock him a little was too good to pass up. A small part of Harry - the one that had to endure the little sighs Ron let loose every five minutes while de-gnoming after lunch - felt he deserved it a bit, too. 

‘Sod off, Harry. At least I’ve got a valid reason : Hermione’s been gone for a week. Ginny sleeps in our room and you still look like an abandoned baby owl before she comes down for breakfast.’ 

Ron was lazily floating belly up on the water, not giving him the dignity of opening his eyes. With a flick of his wand, Harry made a big lump of mud fall right on his face. Ron lost his balance and coughed on what seemed like half the entire pond before standing up and serving him a misty eyed glare and a hand gesture that would have made Mrs Weasley hex his fingers. 

Shaking his hair like a wet dog, he came out of the water to sit next to Harry on the warm, chirped wood planks Mr Weasley had set up a few years back. 

‘Not a fan of getting a little wet, Potter ?’

‘Not really, no.’ 

He didn’t even look at his friend when he was getting out. Bodies of water did not really agree with him, he found. Between the Black Lake’s Gryndilows, and the Inferi with Dumbledore, he’d had his fill. Harry had not dared to take a swim since the locket had nearly drown him. 

He laid back on his elbows to avoid Ron’s badly hidden concern. 

‘You should put your feet in the water.’

‘No thanks.’

‘You should. It’s hot like the in-between of Merlin’s buttocks out here, it’ll make you feel better.’ 

Snorting in spite of himself, and partly to make Ron shut up, Harry obliged and unfolded his legs to throw them over the edge of wooden platform. Expecting it to be deeper, his knees jerked upward with the force of his feet hitting the rocky bottom. 

‘Ow, didn’t think it was that shallow!’

‘Reckon you didn’t - Mum’d never let us come here when we were kids if it wasn’t. It only gets up to you chest in the deeper end, over there. Dad put up a ward around it ‘cause Charlie threw Percy in by the foot once - good times - but I think he removed it when the last of us went to Hogwards.’ 

Harry eyes followed Ron’s pointer finger to the middle of the pond. The water was not entirely cold, a little murky in the way only small natural pools can be in the wild. Gazing back at Ron’s expecting eyes, he heaved a great sigh before easing himself up, and sitting were his feet previously were, cross-legged, submerging only his bottom half. Ron was dripping on the wood behind him, yet Harry could still feel the self-satisfaction seeping out of him regardless, without glancing back. 

‘Happy, mum ?’

‘I would be if you weren’t such a dramatic bum. Hey, can you levitate me above the deeper end so that I can take a dive ? I can’t jump that far.’ 

Harry laughed and aimed his wand at Ron’s foot next to him. He had half a mind to caste a _Levicorpus_ rather than the familiar switch and flick, but decided that this particular laugh would be exponentially better if stored and shared later - with Ginny - like finely aged mead. 

Ron was floating a good distance above the surface now, trying to twist midair in an impressively disgraceful attempt to find the best angle for a dive. It looked to Harry as if a rather large, lanky owl was trying very hard not to empty her bowels mid-flight during a sudden and painful bout of diarrhea. He was wheezing now, righting his glasses on his nose with a hand and swaying Ron back and forth, up and down with the other. 

‘I leave you for a exactly one week , and come back to you behaving like idiots.’ 

Hermione’s voice startled him so badly he dropped Ron right when his body was facing the surface. With a shriek that could have made Banshees jealous of the higher notes reached, Ron fell with a big splash, sending streams of water against Harry’s turned back. He was already on his feat, climbing over the edge on his way to crush a giggling Hermione tight against his chest. 

‘Hi Harry, I missed you, too !’

She was looking healthier, he noted while returning her grin. Her cheeks were a little fuller, too, even if the bags under her eyes were very far from gone. He didn’t look much better, he knew; maybe the lot of them will have to carry the burden of the war a little longer still. With a slight squeeze of her shoulder, Harry released Hermione just as Ron came up to them, his feet making great squelching sounds on the grass and leaving small pools of water in his wake. 

They were getting better, at least.

‘Hey, Hermione.’

Ron, who had looked for all the world determined in his strides, stopped short of colliding with her, suddenly bashful. He was waving his wet arms awkwardly around him as if he didn’t know exactly what to do with them. Hermione saved him the trouble of needlessly extend silence and leapt in his arms, messy hair and little blue sundress and all. 

‘I’m dripping wet, woman !’ Ron cried, his smile betraying him.

‘I don’t care !’ She didn’t waste a single second after her feet touched the ground, slapping her hands on Ron’s cheek and kissing him soundly. Harry twisted his neck up to try and pretend the birds overhead were worthy of attentive examination.

‘Bleurgh, I did not just escape Bill and Fleur to be greeted by this.’

Harry found this welcome distraction from his two best friends’ spectacle in the form a very sunkissed, very malicious looking Ginny. He heard more than felt his neck crack after the violent double take he couldn’t stop himself from : she was offering a splendid view, with her light, open robe and stark blue swimming costume cut so dangerously low it made him, yet again, thank all the higher powers that might exist for not making Ron - or any of the Weasleys - a Legilimens. She gave him a wicked smile.

‘You look delicious as well, Potter.’

‘Oi, don’t start.’ said Ron, who had deemed throwing a warning look at them a good enough reason to emerge from his embrace, one arm still loosely around Hermione’s shoulders. 

‘Excellent dive you’ve graced us with.’ she sneered, giving Harry a high five. ‘Landing needs more work though. I give it a P.’ 

‘I’ll show you some P, _Accio Ginny’s wand_!’ 

It flew from the inside pocket of her robe in a large arc, to fall right in Ron’s open hand. Before Ginny had time to properly react and look something other than profoundly outraged, Ron took the four steps that separated him from her, bended down, threw her unceremoniously on his good shoulder and walked purposefully back to the pond. 

‘Let me down this instant you prat !’ she screamed, punctuating each word with a harder fist to his back. ‘Let me down, I’ll hex you, I swear I’ll do it !’ But the water was already halfway up Ron’s legs. 

Harry turned to face Hermione, having learnt from past mistakes that the best course of action was to simply not get between them. She was drying her clothes with her wand, ignoring the ruckus exploding in the water.

‘ Want to sit by the pond ? Nice dress, by the way.’ 

‘Thank you, Harry.’ She started, her cheeks getting rosier, ‘Mrs Weasley told me she was planning on having a big dinner tonight before Charlie goes back to Romania, so I did a bit of shopping with mum.’

‘I take it things are getting better with them ?’ 

‘Not entirely, to be honest. Mum’s coming around, I think ; she started talking a bit more openly to me. Dad won’t look me in the eye, though, and leaves the room when I come in. He was a little angry when I told them I wanted to spend the rest of the week at The Burrow. They don’t trust me away from them anymore.’

Ron and Ginny were making a great effort in drowning each other, up ahead. Hermione folded her dress underneath her thighs before taking place next to Harry on the grass, behind the wooden platform, away from the shore and the threat of getting splashed or dragged into the petty battle.

‘How have you been, Harry ?’

‘Better.’ It didn’t feel like a lie, surprisingly. He was steadily believing it to be true everyday, even if not entirely yet. ’ Nights are rough, but I’m getting by. Didn’t get sick for the past four days straight.’ He saw her smile at that from the corner of his eyes. 

‘The shaking spells ?’

‘So Ron _does_ tell you every little thing.’

‘You know he worries. He take more to Mrs Weasley in that aspect than he might admit.’

That was true, he thought, looking back to the pond. Harry has accepted his destiny of being the eternal object of their worries, and lying would just make them both double down on their efforts and gang up on him. He would know, he had tried. And failed.

‘They’re getting better, too. We’ve been trying to knit with Mrs Weasley, but I’d say we’re closer to you talent than hers.’

‘My little hats were nice!’

‘Yes, you keep telling yourself that’ He said, smirking. It had been a while since he felt this cheerful and mischievous.‘In any case, we’ve made you a scarf. Pretend to like it when we show you.  And you ? How have you been ?’ He asked, looking back at her.

‘Not worse. Mum’s warming up to me again, as I’ve told you.’

‘And the nightmares?’ 

‘Oh, those don’t really go away. It’ll get better now I’m back, I’m sure.’ Hermione was picking at the grass around her, watching Ginny latch on Ron’s back and attempt to strangle him with pondweed.

‘I know, I feel better when both of you are sleeping in the same room.’

‘Me too.’ she looked ashamed to admit it. ‘I don’t feel completely safe without you two, even with the Aurors. Especially with the Aurors.’

‘Well, I know of another somebody who’d be very glad to share his bed.’

‘Shut up.’

‘No, seriously. He’s been sulking from the moment your letter arrived, you couldn’t come fast enough. It’s only been hilarious for the first hour and a half.’

‘Stop it !’ She threw a handful of grass to his snickering face. ‘I liked you better when you were a dramatic bum, rather than a cheeky bother !’ 

Harry’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead at the choice of words.

‘Apparently, I still am. Have you been calling me that behind my back with Ron?’

Hermione put her fists on her hips, managing the feat of looking at him down her nose despite the height difference (even seated) by sheer force of will. 

‘As a matter of fact, that’s not the only name we’ve been calling you for the past several years.’

All at once, they were dissolving into fits of giggles. It was wonderful to feel so light, over the most ridiculous things, after so long.

Hiccuping into silence, Hermione started to twirl a curl between her fingers. She did an odd jerk of the head as though to compose herself before speaking again.

‘You don’t mind, do you ?’

‘Mind what ?’ Harry couldn’t understand what caused the sudden shift in atmosphere. 

‘About Ron and me.’

‘What ? No ! Of course not ! Why would I ?’ At her tightly pursed lips, he felt compelled to add ‘I’m happy for you, honest. After all the years you’ve been making each other miserable without meaning to, it’s nice to see you finally figuring it out and making each other happy on purpose. It’s not even that weird when you’re not snogging. You let the silliest things get to you sometimes, Hermione.’

‘I know, I just don’t want you to feel left out - because you’re not - and-’

‘Hermione, I love you,’ he said, and though he had some trouble saying it first, it felt good telling her to her face, truthfully and plainly, for once, ‘ and I love Ron. And I know you both care for me, too. You’ve proved it enough. I don’t want you to let co-parenting me stop you from being happy together.’

Ron had manage to get Ginny off him and was now holding her upside down by the ankle. He gave them a little wave before crying out and toppling backward, screaming something about biting being off limits. When Harry looked at Hermione’s face, she was hastily wiping under her eyes. 

‘ So you admit we’ve been co-parenting you.’

‘ I’ve never said that, I don’t know what you mean.’ She laughed.

‘How is he ?’ Hermione said after a beat, turning her head to stare right at him. He took his time to answer, weighting his options, if he should upset her further than she already was or just outright lie to her face. Twisting a rather long piece of yellow grass around a finger, he decided that if Ron told her exactly how he was, then Harry might as well do the same. She'd find out soon enough, in any case.

‘He's been ... busy. I didn’t see it, at first. But then I started to notice all the stuff he did, for everybody around the house, and that’s not counting the times we went to Diagon Alley with Lee. Don’t tell George that, by the way.’

‘I thought so. He doesn’t tell me much about him most times, I thought you’d have a better chance than me.’ 

‘He wouldn’t let me.’ Harry was starting to feel the sadly familiar burn of anger rise up his throat. ‘He’s always up when I am. The nerve of him, really, he never wakes _me_ up. I know he has nightmares - we all do - and I know he’s trying to deal with things his own way, but he’s just being so - so stubborn about it.’

Harry had been selfishly oblivious to everything Ron did, since the end of the war. That is, until he woke up with a start in the middle of night, two weeks ago, his wand at the ready and nearly throwing Ginny from his camp bed. He had looked frantically around for what has become the expected freckled face of his best friend to find a empty bed instead. He had been on the verge of tearing the newly rebuilt Burrow down before Ginny pointed out the sound of running water. They found him crumpled down on the cold tiles, clutching the toilet seat, his face the same sickly shade it took before important quidditch match. 

Ron behaved as if nothing ever happened, the following morning. As if he hadn’t mumbled things like « _couldn’t destroy the locket_ » and « _ruddy manor_ » and « _Rookwood_ » when they had heaved him back to his bed. It wouldn’t have bothered Harry if he thought it an unprecedented or known behaviour. He had no way of being certain, however, expect maybe drink a waking potion day and night and shadow him until one of them snaped and cursed the other. 

He was going to add more to what he already said, but Hermione’s sudden visible alarm shut him up before he opened his mouth. 

‘Harry, if he’s been staying up with you at night, and flooing to help _me_ at night, and having nightmares himself, and helping around at Diagon Alley, then when does he sleep?’

Harry froze, his anger seeping out of him faster than if it had magically vanished. 

He didn’t have an answer to that. 

‘OI, CHILDREN ! MUM SAYS COME BACK INSIDE !’ Charlie’s voice was loud over the tension that settled between Harry and Hermione. ‘BABY ONE, BABY TWO, STOP KILLING EACH OR I’M SENDING THE FIRST BORN.’ 

‘That threat has not worked since we were four.’ Said Ginny indignantly when the youngest Weasleys reached their level, wringing out the water out of her hair. She had managed to snatch her wand back from Ron, who was now sporting a very prominent hairy pattern on his front. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a rather grotesque representation of a pygmy puff. 

‘Thanks.’ She added to Hermione when she finished drying Ron with her wand, posing to receive the spell as well. 

‘What are you thanking me for, I’m not going to dry you after what you did to Ron’s chest. The travesty !’

Ron’s self satisfied roar of laugh did not shake the sinking feeling in Harry’s stomach, even when all of them where seated in the living room, passing mead, butterbeer and firewiskey around after the dinner party Mrs Weasley had planned. 

The bags under Ron’s eyes were even more pronounced under the soft lightening of the Burrow. He wondered why it took him so long to see them, and if he should betray Ron’s trust and just spike his drink with Sleeping Draught and be done with it.

When Sirius had died, he had wanted nothing more than to be left alone and never speak of it again. He knew Ron functioned the same the way, but it’s been more than two months already, and he hadn’t seen him get angry, or cry, or anything since the night of the funeral. You would think they would not how to support each other in the face of death by now, but not one of them had been known for handling their grief well. Especially Harry himself, if his snappy behaviour for the entire fifth year was anything to go by. 

At least he got _angry,_ even if he wasn’t proud of it.

Shaking himself from the memory of his awkward talk with Tonks fifth year, he tried to refocus on Ginny sitting on the carpet by his feet, who had managed to strong-arm Percy and George into a furious game of exploding snaps. Ron was to the far left of the sofa, engaged in a vivid description of the dragon they’d ridden on their way out of Gringotts with Charlie, spilling a bit of mead on Hermione to his right in his enthusiasm. She didn’t seem to mind, blowing back wayward curls from her face and actively offering revolted details on the obvious magical creatures abuse. 

Mrs Weasley presented him with a plate of treacle tart and a glass of amber liquid before sitting on the worn armchair to his right. 

‘You’ve yet to tell me what you want for your birthday cake, Harry.’

‘Oh, anything is fine, Mrs Weasley.’ He said, smiling. He still hasn’t forgotten the giant snitch of his seventeenth. 

‘I thought it’d be nice to have some people over. Not many, of course !’ She added at the grimace he couldn’t hide quick enough. ‘Just family friends. Hagrid of course, Andromeda and Teddy, and maybe the Longbottom and Lovegood if you want.’ 

‘Oh, I remember zat girl ! Very peculiar.’

‘Brilliant, I’d say.’Ginny corrected Fleur sharply, without looking up from the cards in front of her. 

‘Speaking of family gatherings, we’d rather like it if you wanted to spend Christmas at the cottage this year.’ said Bill, coming back from helping himself to a second serving of dessert and a glass of Firewiskey. ‘Hermione, you’d be welcome as well, of course.’

‘Yes, I’ll try, thank you for the invitation, Bill !’

‘Is it going to be large enough for all of us ?’ said Ron, taking a few more seconds than her to switch from their previous conversation, absentmindedly picking at the scars on his arms.

‘We’ll manage. We’re planning on reworking the space to fit all of us the before December, because Fleur’s parents may be coming a little earlier than you. I’ll be a little different than the last winter you were there.’

‘What do you mean, last winter ? I though they were at yours just before Easter ?’ Ginny asked, this time disregarding her game. Bill did not notice Ron’s expression of dread, too busy refilling his wife’s glass.

‘Well yes, but Ron came by before that, didn’t he ?’ 

The entire room froze. 

A card exploded, but nobody paid it any mind , least of all George who was sucking the finger that took the blunt of his loss and looking at Bill confusedly. Harry turned his head alarmingly at Hermione, petrified by his side. This was exactly what they’d been afraid of : anyone finding out about Ron’s slip and immediately jumping to the wrong conclusions. They had to find an excuse before anyone said something they couldn’t come back from.

Ginny took a glance at the exchange, at the panicked set of Ron’s eyebrows, and did exactly just that, heat coming up frighteningly fast to her cheeks. 

‘How come you were at Shell Cottage alone, Ron ? Did you get separated during the hunt? You’ve never told me that, Harry !’

‘I know ! I forgot, it wasn’t for long and-’

‘No, no. I’m not buying that. What happened ? What are you hiding?’ She was standing up now, pointing an accusing finger at Ron.

‘We’re not hiding anything !’ Hermione’s brave attempt was only slightly ruined by the higher pitch of her tone. ‘We got ambushed and separated, that’s why he went to Bill’s, but then he came back a couple of weeks later and we could-‘

‘NO !’ Ginny was quickly turning the shade of her hair, unlike all the other Weasleys, looking transfixed and greenish. ‘Bill can’t lie to save his life ! Look at him, he looks constipated ! That’s not all there is to it!’ 

With a quick glance, Harry saw Mrs Weasley was starting to quake in her seat. He had been counting on her to stop Ginny from going overboard, but she had that odd shifty look in her eyes like she was waiting for something to happen, something to be said, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand how Mrs Weasley of all people could suspect anything. His head was ringing with the effort of making up something - anything - quickly enough, his eyes darting around him, fast, in search of any kind of inspiration. They had been so careful, and yet he knew not giving the complete and honest recounting of the past year would come back to bite them at some point. Not so soon, though, not at The Burrow, with his guard down and head still swimming with the lingering fumes of Charlie’s going away bottles of mead.

‘Ginny, I don’t understand why you’re so upset.’ Hermione started again, stronger and more convincing this time. ‘We told you everything, this tiny detail just slipped our minds, that’s all.’ 

‘How come you’re not saying anything, then, dear brother?’

‘Because, their’s nothing else to say.’ Ron’s ears started to flush under her glowering.

‘Right, then how exactly did you end up alone? Why is Bill acting like he clearly knows something we don’t and regrets letting it slip?’ 

‘Ginny, stop, you’re being delusional !’  Harry said, feeling the ambers of anger in his stomach slowly coming back to life. The hours they spent being ridiculous and lighthearted by the pond could have happened months ago, how far away they seemed in his rising panic.

‘ _I’m being delusional_?’NO ! In the only two times I know off where you three have been separated during the war, Hermione got tortured to an inch of her life and you buggered off to _die_ !’ She ignored her mother’s small gasp and the whimpering that was starting to get more and more audible by the minute, raising her voice even louder, flaring up at Ron.‘ I’m sick and tired of all your little secrets ! _Tell us what happened_ !’

‘Did they hurt you, Ronnie ?’ 

Mrs Weasley’s voice was feeble, but seemed to strike Ron harder than any shouting Ginny could have done. Hermione, stuck between him and Harry, was looking at Ron, face so contorted her knuckles were turning white with the force of her grip on each of their knees. Ignoring her, Harry was fixing his eyes resolutely on Ron's parents, jaw set.

‘No, mum, no, they didn’t get me, don’t worry, they-‘

‘Did you escape from falling into one of their traps ?’

‘No, Mr Weasley, it was nothing like that, we just got separated-‘

‘Ron, did they - did they _torture you_ for information ?’

‘No Percy, we told you-’

‘SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED _MUST_ HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU!’ Ginny bellowed at the top of her voice. 

’I LEFT !’ 

A Body biding charm could not have been more effective. Ginny, gobsmacked, took a step back when Ron leapt to his feet, slapping away Hermione’s hand like it had scalded him.

‘I’m sick of your little secrets’ he said in a cruel but very accurate imitation of the exact pitch she was screaming at before. ‘Well, there you have it, the bare truth. I ran out on them.’

‘That can’t be true.’

He roared with a derisive laugh, his ears and neck bypassing pink and flushing a boiling, angry red.

‘Ask Bill about it, he knows.’

‘Ron’ Hermione was sounding close to tears now, ‘you’re not being fair to yourself, you wanted to come back as soon as you left, as soon as you removed-‘

‘So he _did_ leave ?’ Ginny’s anger was taking new roots, taking over her previously incredulous face with renewed ferocity of splotched maroon ‘You absolute, filthy _coward_! Why did you leave, life in the wild not satisfying enough for you ?’

‘Shut up, the bloody Horcrux manipulated me into it !’ 

Harry, fearing an exact replica of the fight they had in sixth year, stood up to get between them, facing Ginny. She was undeterred, glaring at Ron like Harry was made of the same wispy and glittering mist Hogwarts ghosts were. 

‘You’ve all had it with you, Harry told me ! You took turns with it, and you want me to believe you were the only one affected ? Please ! You never said you left, what other unspeakable _disappointments_ are you keeping away from us?! ’

‘Ginny, he’s right, the Horcrux made him, he-‘ They didn’t seem to hear him at all.

‘You don’t understand anything you’re talking about !’ 

‘ YOU HAD ONE JOB !’ Ginny was nearing hysterics, trying to bodily remove Harry from the way, forgoing her wand entirely and trying to get a shot at him with her bare hand. Charlie’s arms restraining her around the middle did not stop her from screaming. ‘You had one job, it was to stay by Harry’s side ! Some best friend you are, some Grinffindor you are, you disgusting, _disgusting-_.’

‘ENOUGH ! ’

Harry had never heard Mr Weasley rise his voice that way in all the years he’d known him. Arms still outstretch in front on Ron, he tried to peer around him at his father getting ready to ask for an explanation, but no sooner than Mr Weasley stood up to his feet that Ron deflated behind him, the fight leaving him as quickly as it took him. 

Ron looked at each and everyone of them, lingering a few seconds more on his mother, before leveling a cold, hard stare at Ginny. 

‘I’m sorry I’m not exactly the great hero you’ve all made me to be’. He bowed his head toward Harry. ‘Tell them what you want, but I’m not staying around to hear it. I’m off to bed.’ he said quietly, turning away and going up the steps without sparing any of them a glance. 

And with the loud footsteps of his retreat echoing in his head, Harry’s pent up frustration ignited all at once. Placing a hand on her arm to stop Hermione from following Ron, and without hearing Mr Weasley ask for a more peaceful conversation, he rounded up on Ginny. 

‘Why do you always have to so hard on him ? You don’t even know the full story !’

‘What more is there to know ?! You’ve had the Horcrux on you as well, but somehow he’s the only one who buggered off, how can you still - !’

‘BECAUSE I TOLD HIM TO !’ He was thunderous now, not registering Hermione’s trembling hand against his chest nor her calling of his name, imploring him to calm down. ‘ I told him to go ! Told him he was unwanted, when he was hungry and recovering from splinching and bleeding out and wearing a Horcrux telling him _things_ and listening everyday to that stupid radio hoping he won’t hear your names in the dead list !’ 

He didn’t take a second to draw breath. 

‘ He regretted it as soon as he removed the bloody thing, but couldn’t come back. And he could’ve chosen to never come back, but chose danger and what was right and chose _me, again_ , after all this time ! Because that what he is ! He did it, he came back, resisted Voldemort’s attempt at possession, _saved my life_ , and destroyed the Horcrux.’

Stunned, Ginny let herself fall back heavily on the sofa behind her. Bill, still uncomfortable and awfully guilty, shifted on his seat before mumbling :

‘I just don’t understand why the Horcrux affected him more than you.’

Hermione answered this time, Harry having lost his voice in his fury.

‘For all the obvious reasons Harry just told you. Because he had so much more to lose than the two of us, relatively. Because he’s less confident about his abilities, too, you all must’ve seen it at some point. And also because, I think, he’s always been more sensible to magic then we were.’

‘What ?’ 

It was Harry who asked, having been shaking his head up and down at each of her words until the last bit. He’d always thought Ron’s self-depreciation and large family were large enough breeding ground for the locket to act as violently as it did, never considering there couldpossibly be _more_.

‘Well’ She said, clutching the fabric of her dress, ‘He kept bothering us about not saying Voldemort’s name during the whole hunt. Turned out it was tabooed, and he had been right - we could have been ambushed a thousand times if he didn’t feel something off about the name. He’s always been this way. We should have suspected it earlier : he did succeed in doing silent spells as early as second year, didn’t he ? ’ 

Harry let the silence that followed wash over him, digesting this knew information. It all made sense. He looked at the ceiling as if he could make Ron feel his great appreciation of him through the landings. 

He didn’t think he could have been more thankful for the fateful day Ron chose to sit in the same compartment, but he kept delivering. He gifted him his first happy Christmas. He tried to keep them safe. He tried to help as much as he could, when he wasn’t incapacitated by his own self doubt. He made most of their strategies. He didn’t hesitate to jump on a stone horse on a chessboard, or after Harry in an icy lake that could have been the house of a creature capable of killing them both, for all he knew. 

Ron had shared everything with him; his home, his family, sometimes in spite of feeling jealous or overshadowed or anything equally as idiotic.

Harry felt the foul taste of bitterness in his mouth, all of a sudden. 

‘You know, Ginny, I would have expected _you_ at least to be more forgiving, knowing how you were possessed yourself once.’

She looked as if she’d been slapped across the face. With the finality of an argument regretted , she burrowed deeper in her seat, keeping her eyes trained on the carpet, letting her hair fall in front of her to hide her from the rest of the audience. Mrs Weasley was openly crying now, unrestrained, while all her sons were looking lost and thunderstruck. All but George, who bore a strange pensive squint, uncharacteristically quiet, not seeming to pay attention to what was being said at all. 

Harry turned around on the soles of his feet, deeming the conversation over and meaning to join Ron up in his bedroom, but Mrs Weasley’s quivering voice stopped him. 

‘You said the Horcrux was telling him things. It must have said something awful - _horrid_ \- to make him consider leaving at all.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes, it did. And before any of you ask, I won’t tell you what it said.’

Facing them all, with Hermione’s elbow in his strong grip, he dared anyone to ask. 

After waiting for the silence to stretch long enough to make his point clear, he slid his hand down Hermione’s arm to squeeze her fingers and made for the stairs once more. He had one foot up the second step, Hermione at his heals, before George words reached him. 

‘All in all, you mean to say,' He started with a quiet and very dangerous edge to his voice ,'that Ronnie dear blames himself for being influenced and tormented by a dangerous piece of Voldy's soul when he was underfed, on the run, and recovering from a splinching that nearly killed him ? That rounding things up nicely enough ?’

Harry was starting to feel less and less angry and suddenly very aware of what a hoard of volatile and highly impulsive Weasleys can do. Ginny had not said anything for the past five minutes, that alone had an impressive flammability potential. Still sitting on the floor, George was smiling serenely, which scared him most of all.

'He obviously doesn't see it that way. '

It was as if he hadn't spoken at all.

‘And you three avoided telling us because you thought - rightfully, I might add, as demonstrated - that’d we think less of him for it.’

Harry and Hermione could do nothing but stay silent.

‘Excellent !’ George said jovially, clapping his hands and getting to his feet. He drew his wand, drawing a circle around him, pointing it at all of them, smiling still. ‘Harry, Hermione, you stay here. I’m going up to the attic. If anyone thinks of following me, or interrupting us, parents or brothers or bloody _gnomes_ , you’ll wish for Dumbledore to come back from the dead to protect you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Ron has shown greater sensibility to magic around him than the rest of the trio throughout the series . It may be because of his upbringing, having lived his whole life surrounded by magic.  
> On another note, I believe the Weasley's are a very emotional bunch, and prompt to anger, Ginny most of all. To be honest I have reread Ron and Ginny's fight in the sixth book 4 times to get how she gets angry right and try to do it justice.
> 
> Also, Harry being a lil shit is my medicine. 
> 
> Up next : George has things to say and Will Be Heard. The other brothers try a tiny bit more jovial method.


	3. Veritaserum and Euphoria Elixir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess why the chapter is named so ?

Ron, for all the great things that he was and did, was an idiot. 

Pity for someone who could beat anyone at chess since the glorious age of eight. You’d think being one third of the most meddlesome trio in the history of Hogwarts, and incidentally saviours of the wizarding world, would have had a least a little impact. Yet, Ron remained self-oblivious to an extend George could have considered astronomically risible if it wasn’t just sad, really. 

Standing in the center of a wary and highly apprehensive audience, George spun on his toes with a flourish and walked up to Harry and Hermione, both of them looking at him as if he was mentally unstable, surely expecting him ( or anything within his reach) to spontaneously combust. They couldn’t be blamed, if his history as an exceptionally gifted and most inappropriate mischief manager was any indication, sparks coming from his wand notwithstanding. George, still smiling something unsettling, heard someone get up behind him and turned to aim his wand to Bill’s chest, who had a hand up as if to grab something ; his shoulder, maybe. 

‘Don’t touch me.’

Raising his arms in surrender, Bill stayed silent, a strange furrow in his eyebrows, the one he often bore when he was trying to figure out a complicated enchantment, or when deciding between telling Mum on them or slapping them across the head himself. George didn’t care for his eldest brother act nor his calculations in the slightest, even less for Ginny’s badly hidden attempt at strangling a sob, his eyes and wand back on Harry and Hermione. They seemed to unfreeze, Harry fastest, his fingers itching toward his back pocket. 

‘Don’t test me, Harry. It’s not like I’m gonna make _fun_ of him, of Merlin’s sake. Let me through.’

But Harry did not move an inch, jaw locked, hand closing around holly. 

‘Harry, Chosen One or not, I _will_ curse your bollocks off. Stand. Aside.’ 

Hermione had apparently had enough of their little peacock show. With a huff and a worried glance thrown somewhere beyond George, she took a step toward him to stand directly in his line of sight, no avoidance possible. 

‘This is nonsense. Hexing each other will accomplish absolutely nothing. Go speak to him, if you must.’ She said with a wave for Harry to shut up before he said anything. Just as George slightly lowered his extended arm, she moved fast enough for her hair to still be whirling around her face when she became unmoving again, a statue bolted on her tiptoes so close George could clearly count her eyelashes down his nose. With a foot thrown back for balance, he glared back at her narrowing her eyes, betrayed in his surprise and more than a little miffed she could sneak up on him in less then a second. 

‘ _Don’t_ make it worse.’ Hermione said, and George could have sworn he heard an angry hiss along it definitely not coming from Crookshanks. 

And with that delightful encouragement and a hard, obviously accidental shove against Harry’s grumbling form, he slowly made his way up the stairs. 

The steps were creaking. Rebuilding The Burrow did nothing to arrange that, it seemed. It used to be comforting, but now it just sounded ominous, in tune with his loud heartbeat.  Nearing Ron’s bedroom, George realized he had completely not thought this one though. What to do now that he was staring at his closed door ? Knock ? It wasn’t like he’d had any respect for Ron’s privacy before, and announcing one’s arrival too politely to a younger sibling is unbecoming of any self respecting prankster. They had to keep them on their toes, always, especially when they thought they were safe in the confines of their rooms. 

Too bad apparition was not an option, since Mum and Kingsley declared The Burrow in need of at least the same level of protection as Hogwarts. He could still turn back, maybe a brotherly intervention was not most timely, all considered. Or, largely preferable,he _could_ bang the door loudly on his way in and announce to all ears that Ron was an idiot, jostle him a little, at least until he concluded that George was right, clap him on the back and call it a job done.  Was that how Ron felt each time he had all but forced his way into his room to manhandle him and get him to eat for the past 47 days? 

Ron could be crying in there, thought. Harry had not been exactly quiet. He stopped himself from kicking the door at the last second, stumbling dumbly on one foot.

Fred would have known what to do. 

George pulled at his hair, before looking upward. This was not the time to let the little dementors in his head get the best of him. They were always there; sometimes at the edge of his mind, most times planted right there in the middle, taking up all his thinking space and preying on anything that took root. Ron had told him, once, to try a create a what he called a mind Patronus. What a load of hopeful rubbish. What a splendid fully grown hypocrite. 

He vigorously shook his shoulders, his head next, back and forth like a wet dog until his vision swam at the edges and then more, eyes stitched shut hard enough to see little stars. When h e opened his eyes again, it was to little multicolored stars, and little bit of clarity. Fred would have _not_ have known what to do. He never really knew how to comfort anyone, least of all Ron, anyway. That had always been his job - to smooth over Fred’s sharp edges; that was how their whole dynamic was about, where the balance laid, once. 

With a deep breath, he turned the knob and, surprised it was unlocked, stepped quietly inside. 

Ron was laying on his bed facing away from him, hunched over on his side, arms and ankles crossed. He was not sleeping : the silence was deafening without his snores.George stood at the threshold, clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides. 

‘Honestly Harry, just go to sleep, I don’t want to talk about it.’ Ron said, his voice muffled by his pillow. 

‘Too bad, innit ?’

He nearly fell out his bed he twisted around so fast.

‘What are _you_ doing here ?’

‘Right now ? Trying to decide between talking to you or clocking you.’ With a nonchalant wave of his wand, the door closed itself resolutely behind him, the lock and their faith setting into place. George added a _muffliato_ , just to be safe.

‘Merlin help us if you choose either.’

That was a little uncalled for, and made him seriously consider his second option. Ron turned his back on him, moodily twirling a loose strand around his wand, poking a hole through his sheet.  It was as good an invitation as any he could hope to get. George chose to sit on Harry’s camp bed, and didn’t open his mouth for such a long while that Ron took it upon himself to do so.

‘Which is it, then ?’ 

‘Depends. Do you think we’re ashamed of you ?’

Ron contented himself with attacking the poor strand more ardently. 

‘Oh wow, you really are daft.’

George dodged the flying pillow by a breath. Ron’s ears were getting redder by the second ; he looked more and more like a kettle building up heat and less like a kicked kitten. Good, at least they were getting somewhere. 

‘So,’ George begun conversationally ‘ is that what the Horcrux told you, or you came up with that all by yourself like a big boy ?’

‘Sod off, George.’

‘Could you stop being a prick, and just talk to me?’

‘Oh please, don’t act like you _care_.’

Ron’s voice wavered at the last word. With the air of faltering insolence, and finally accepting that George was just not going to disappear no matter how hard he ignored him, he sprung up to his feet, towering over his brother, eyes flashing dangerously. 

And for the first time in a long, long time, George took a second to see past the act, past the pretense, and really, honestly looked at him. It was like taking a deep dive in an iced bath. Ron was thinner than his tall, lanky form might suggest, upon closer inspection. He looked younger than he remembered, too. George realized with a jolt that he looked eighteen and so - so _teenage like_ \- because it was _exactly_ what he was. 

Coaxing him out of his shell was obviously not working. George would have to do the talking then, if Ron was so uncooperative. For all that, the words felt a little heavy on his tongue.

‘Ron, listen to me. You’ve done a million of exceptional things. You’ve stood up to Voldemort and Snape and Sirius when we thought he was a mass murder and won a duel with Greyback and -’

‘Any of you could have done that if you were in my stead.’ Ron scoffed, waving his hands like slapping away persistent flies. He started to pace back and forth between the beds, his long legs permitted only a couple of steps before spinning on the sole of a foot. George stood up as well, to try and gain terrain.

‘Why do you insist on the martyr act ?! Why do you _always_ feel like you’ve got to prove anythi-‘

‘Because you’re all bloody brilliant !’ Ron bellowed finally, like a man possessed, stopping midstep and exploding at George face. ‘Martyr ? Seriously ? Do I need to spell it out ? Alright ! Fine ! Bill was Prefect then Headboy then curse breaker for Gringotts, Charlie’s job is taming dragons, Percy was the perfect stuck up daddy’s boy, you and Fred are - were - _are_ geniuses, and Ginny’s the magical seventh child, the girl they were waiting for their whole lives. What’s left for me ?! What ?! I’m Ron, just Ron, nothing less and notably nothing more.’ Ron eyes were watering, and he was wiping at his cheek furiously like the tears were a supreme offense his body was making against him. ‘And just when I was supposed to help, to be there for Harry, I go and blow it up ! As if everyone needed a reason, as if _I_ needed a reason to feel-.’ 

He stopped short, strangled by a confession that felt like years in the making. He heaved, white faced and shaking, surfacing from the depth of his own head with regret stretching itself plainer on his face by the second.

George fell back heavily on the bed behind him, a realization long overdue caving in around him with a quiet detonation. In the midst of it, a horrible, horrible thought came to him suddenly, unbidden.

‘Ron, do you think Fred hated you ?’

If his silence wasn’t answer enough, what little colour flushing Ron’s ears and neck was abandoning post, and gave him away. George’s blood was rushing out of him as well, along with past certainties that he thought unquestionable. He kept his eyes on his younger - youngest- brother without really seeing him, as though through a fog. 

George was many, many things, but he’d believed blind had never been one of them. He thought himself quite sharp, actually. He had known they weren’t the most supportive of brothers, especially Fred, but he figured out Ron had plenty of those to get around, as well as Mummy and Daddy’s doting, so he’d be fine in the long run. A little bit of pushing around forged character, didn’t it, and they needed a test subject for their little experiments, in any case. Who better than crybaby Ronniekins and annoying Gin-Gin, who could get away with anything if they trembled their lower lip hard enough ?

They had been wrong. Wrong and so many different levels another version of himself would have found it darkly comical. 

‘We were just teasing you, you should know we never meant anything by it.’ George said, softly.

‘You humiliated me ! You gave me my fear of spiders ! You thought I’d never get a girlfriend !’

‘And you always ratted us out to mum !’ His voice was picking up strength as he went on,  ‘ You threw _a knife_ at me once ! that’s just how we were ! And _you_ never hated us, why would you think _we_ ’d hate you ?!’ Through the infuriating hum in his ears, vaguely, George heard a door slam in the distance. The unexpected, resounding bang made them both jump, but the fog blinding him was starting to dissipate, gently, like witnessing a veil falling to the ground.

‘Ron, sit down. Sit.’ Ron’s face told him he judged his newfound calm nothing less than unnerving. Warily, he did as ordered, bowing his head. Leaning back on his hands behind him, George looked at the ceiling as if trying to draw inspiration from it. He was sure the little dementors were dancing the jig.

After lull of contemplation, he seemed to have found what he had been looking for.

‘Fred cried for week after that whole spider thing. When he thought nobody could see him. And not because mum grounded us, mind you.’ Ron looked up at that, a question in the tilt of his head. ‘He thought you won't like him around anymore, now that he scared you so hard. He threw up on Bill’s shoes when you he came to tell us you got captured at the Malfoy’s, that we’ve got to hide.’

George spoke softly, as if sharing a big secret. He was, in a sense : Fred hated to show what he perceived as weakness.

‘We were just - Fred was just messing with you. We thought you knew that.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not.’

Ron seemed conflicted, likely debating with himself about what to do next. Finally, he blurted out, despite himself, shamefully :

‘I thought - you know, after it happened, that it would have been better if I died, instead.’

‘I know, I overheard you, with Harry. I thought it was only grief speaking.’George started, to Ron’s slow blink and ajar mouth. ‘You’re mental.’

They fell silent again for what felt like an eternity. 

‘What happened wasn’t your fault. None of it. Least of all the thing with the locket. You forgave Percy for leaving when he didn’t have a single valid reason to do so, and I wonder why you are so slow to forgive yourself for something you aren’t even entirely to blame for. So what ? you made a mistake, everybody does, but few have the excuse of being manipulated into it by Voldemort while being half dead to back it up. Fewer can say they came back to do what was right.’ George said, still gazing up. ‘Maybe we could have done it, but in the end, _you_ did, so that ought to count for something.’ 

A long, drawn out breath. It felt good, oddly, to say that. Less an image of weakness and more like a confession of unsinkable truth. Quieter still, he continued.

‘I lost part of me that night, I think. More than I brother. But even me doesn’t wish another to replace him.’

’I’m sorry.’

‘And I’m going to say this once, because you need to hear it for some obscure reasons: even without saving the wizarding world, nobody thinks the way you do about yourself. You could’ve been a turnip Mum , Dad, Bill ,Charlie, Perce, Ginny, everybody would have loved you anyway. Fred did. _I do_. I’m still not sorry we were shits to you.’

Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and the words didn’t even burn on their way out, not at all, strangely enough. So rare George opened up to somebody other than his twin, that he had to make it count : he wasn’t done, and Ron mumbling apologies would not stop him. He had to show him, somehow, and he was tired of riddles and half-hearted comedy acts.

’You should know Mum charmed the clock when you were away,’ George said, stronger, ‘so that nobody but her and Dad could see it. She made it so she could hear your hand shriek when you escaped death, and hum when you were okay. Drove her half mad before Dad made her undo it. Charlie exploded half the yard after the wedding, when we understood you left. Ginny went feral each time anybody came close to Pig or Arnold. Bill- ’

‘I get it. I- I never meant to doubt you.’ Ron said, finger intertwined behind his neck and eyes downcast. Like an afterthought, he added, ’I just - it's only _me_ that I doubt, sometimes.'

'I know.'

'I should have told you about the locket earlier, might have avoided this whole mess.’

‘Who could say ? We’re a dramatic bunch, we’d have made some sort of spectacle out of it. Now, you know, thought, everything. Or most of it, you get the picture.’ George was half grinning now, only a trace of the lackluster thing stretching his lips moments before left. ‘Mum will smother you.’

‘You mean more than she already does ? She can’t kill me now, missed her chance.’

Hearing that, George finally looked back to Ron’s face. More colour was coming back to it after his halfhearted joke. They held their gaze until Ron’s breathing evened out, until his eyes no longer shone, until George felt his wrists moan under the weight of his upper body. Finally, something tugged at the corner of Ron’s lips, something timid and relieved and brave and whimsical all at once.

‘Ginny hates me, now.’

‘She doesn’t. Not easy handling the mistakes of somebody you look up to. She’ll come around.’ 

George stood up, rolling his wrists before slamming a heavy hand on Ron’s shoulder. 

‘If I don’t get to be glum and believe whatever my darkest thoughts my genius mind made up, you don’t get to either, got it?’ 

‘I’ll try.’

‘Good. I’m not going to hug you.’ Ron made a face.

‘Thanks Merlin for small miracles. You should get back down before somebody thinks we’ve murdered each other.’

‘Little wonder boy was already itching to do me in, I’d wager.’ 

George made for the door before turning back, a hand on the doorknob and his wand in the other.

‘Fred wanted you to work with us after school, did he ever tell you ?’

The sheer number of times Ron insisted on impersonating a gaping fish during that whole wreck of a conversation was astonishing. George made a conscious effort to school his expression : Harry and Hermione were surely on the other side waiting, and it wouldn’t do to get out there laughing his arse out. 

‘He did. We did. We knew you wanted to take a shot at the Auror Program, but we wanted to give you that option, too, after the war. You’d start at the bottom of the food chain, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘And you’d be payed miserably, at first.’ 

‘You gits.’

‘But you would’ve had the option. You still do, as a matter of facts. But I’d have to face going there and rebuilding the place back, thought.’

‘You don’t have to.’

George’s wand was pointed toward the door, yet nothing happened : Ron’s words, his fidgeting and sideways eyes made it rather difficult to perform the counter spell and unlock it. 

‘What do you mean ?’

‘You don’t have to rebuild it, or face it, or whatever you think you have to do to the place. We already did, with Harry and Lee. Took some time - was harder to give mum the slip then to the bloody snatchers- but the shop looks like it did before the war. We finished it last week. The products are all wrecked, though. I wanted to ask Hermione to help me with the inventory tonight.’

George stood gobsmacked, his hand still on the doorknob. 

‘Hum. Surprise ?’

In two strides, George was crushing Ron’s shoulders against him, tackling him on the bed where he was still sitting hard enough to crack something in his back and extract a strangled, rewarding yelp from his brother. The few erratic pats Ron gave to George’s back were getting firmer the less he could breath properly. 

‘Thought hugs were a big no-no ?’ Ron said.

‘Ancient history, when I thought you were just an idiot.’

‘And what am I now ?’

‘An idiot with too much time on his hands, apparently. You’ll look positively _ravishing_ in magenta, but I can order special maroon robes just for you.’

‘Ha-Ha, hilarious, now let me go !’

Barking with laughter, George did as asked, one part incredulous, one part delirious, and mostly grateful. He rose to his feet, sending a grin to Ron’s direction who apparently was yet to recover emotionally and physically from his aggressions, rubbing his arm and clicking his tongue. 

‘If you tell anybody I did that, I’ll make sure every single one of your meals contains a new, inventive version of the Puking Pastilles.’

‘Nobody’ll believe me, anyways. You’re a prat.’

‘I’m a delight.’ 

George finally turned back to the door, waving his wand. ‘ _Alohomora._ Why hello there ! Look, your precious Ronniekins is still intact, isn’t that lovely ?’

Harry, standing by the threshold like a sentinel, was pursing his lips in a terrifying reminder of McGonagall. Hermione didn’t look much better next to him, arms on her hips and hair sticking up everywhere around her in a nasty mess of knots. 

George smiled, and with a little tap on Hermione’s head, left the room. Lingering a little on the landing, he heard a soft exchange of words, something along the lines of « _expected the room to look like an explosion site_ ». He glanced to his right, half out of habit and half out of desperate expectation.

Nothing was there. He ought to get used to that. Mind Patronuses, and whatnots.

Well, time to get downstairs and make sure Mum doesn’t do something drastic, like forbidding any of them to see the light of day for the foreseeable future. 

Unbeknownst to him, back in the room he just left, Harry and Hermione sat shoulder to shoulder with Ron, effectively sandwiching him. 

‘We should know by now that every single plan we make goes spectacularly down the drain at some point.’ Ron said.

‘We should. It’s not too bad though, now it’s out in the open and there can be no risk of misinterpretation.’ Hermione answered, with the same expression of finality she bore after a completed examination. ‘Your parents are worried, though.’

‘Yeah well, they never know when not to. We should just give it a rest and go to sleep. I suppose Ginny’s not coming this time around.’

‘She’s not.’

‘Lasted long enough dealing with our codependency.’ Ron said, before sending a sheepish grin Harry’s way. ‘Sorry, mate.’

Harry, unexpectedly, just laughed.

‘You’re not really.’

‘No, I’m not.’

Before extinguishing the lights, Harry put his glances on the floor next to his bed and said to his friends’ blurry form :

‘I’m sorry we moved the tent so soon after you left. If you think about it, I’m partly to blame for you not coming back earlier.’

‘When _you_ think about it, everything is your fault all the time. You had no choice. It worked out for the better, after all.’

Harry’s mind was still spinning around far too much to find sleep. Ron wasn’t faring much better, as long after Hermione’s breathing evened out, he heard him mumble in the dark.

‘Thanks for, you know, what you said down there. I heard most of it.’

Harry smiled. He didn’t need his glasses to know Ron’s ears were on fire.

‘Always. I must not tell lies, remember ?’

Sleep came easier after that. 

Three days passed without any major events. 

No, that wasn’t entirely true. Percy kept sending Ron’s little understanding looks over diner, Dad openly invited him to his Muggle Cabin when he came back from the Ministry, Bill looked like an upset owl every time he crossed ways with him, and Ginny refused point blank to get out of her room. George found it funny, all things considered : it was quite enjoyable to watch Ron get steadily frustrated and their whole bunch of well meaning family members fumble their way around him, and Harry torn between the two main Weasleys of his life. More amusing still was his newfound proximity with Ron, especially when they were both frustrated beyond words with everybody’s questions and resorted to mock systematically their eldest brothers behind their backs. 

The only thing that remained steadfast was Mum’s behaviour : except for the worried glances (those were the norm by now) and the initial tearful outburst ( expected by all parties involved),the traditional fretting came back frightfully fast, if a tad bit more pronounced. George wouldn’t have minded if that also meant her focus shifted solely to Ron and thus away from him, but none were safe. He had to find a little admiration for her in that amidst it all. 

As such, It came as a surprise when Charlie strode confidently in their-his room, smile all teeth and mischief, dragging Percy in by the neck, Bill behind him not looking the least bit guilty for a change.

‘I’m going back to Romania.’

‘So I’ve heard, I was there the multiple times you tried to convince Mum. And ?’ 

‘We’re going out drinking, to celebrate. Also we want to have a good, unrestrained fun brotherly moment with Ron all together before I go. Burn that whole episode to the ground.’ George sat a little straighter on his bed.

‘What about Mum ?’

‘She’s out with Fleur in Diagon Alley, it took all of yesterday to convince her. You’ve got to love a devoted sister in law. We have a window of twenty minutes before Mum cracks and decides to go back on her word.’

‘Consider my interest positively picked. Where to ?’

‘Muggle pub in the village, behind the square where Bill had his first snog.’

‘Why do you always have to mention that ?’ Bill asked, a little disgruntled.

‘We’re kidnapping Harry too, by the way.’ Charlie said, as if his older brother never spoke in the first place. George stood, grinning.

‘Consider me completely invested.’

With this new resolution, they all but barged into Ron’s room. Loud and unexpected, George should not have been so surprised too see Ron throw Hermione’s legs off his lap and fling an arm out to push her between his back and pillow, so abruptly his elbow hit her square in the eye. The books on her knees fell to the floor in a heap. Harry, though, was already standing with a wand out.

‘Why in Merlin’s most minging Y-front do you never knock ?!’

‘Ron ! Language !’ Hermione said between moans of pain. The eye not hidden behind clutched eyes gave him an exasperated, albeit watery glare.

‘The pizzazz of an entrance well executed.' George answered. 'Hermione, say goodbye to your boyfriend and the only other non-weasley, we’re kidnapping them.’ 

‘What ? Why ?’

‘None of your business, little lady.’

Ron winced, trying to gauge the damage he inflected. Harry just stood awkwardly to the side, a plethora of emotion confusedly crossing his face before it decided to merge curiosity and distrust in an unattractive knit of the eyebrows. George didn’t blame him, the poor guy. 

‘Sorry, Hermione.’

‘I’m fine Ron, honestly, stop fussing.’

‘Yes, Ickle Ronniekins, stop fussing. Big brothers are demanding we go out right this instant. For once in their lives, their word is law. Mum’s coming back in seventeen fleeting minutes. Yes, Harry, you’re coming too. This is a Weasley men’s party but we can stand one bespectacled black haired little git.’

‘And where to, may I ask ?’ Having a blooming black eye did nothing to diminish Hermione’s affronted, high-and-mighty voice.

‘Officially, tearfully bidding goodbye to me.’ Charlie said, Percy’s head still strongly locked under his arm.

‘But if you must know, we’re getting pissed with muggle alcohol.’ George said proudly. ‘Now chop chop, fifteen minutes now.’

‘Just so everybody knows, I absolutely do not approve of this.’ Percy’s voice and muffled by Charlie’s bicep, yet the resigned tone shone through.

With an awful lot of noise, Ginny poking her head once from her landing to see what the commotion was about, and a whole nine minutes exclusively wasted bickering with Hermione, they were out and on their way to the pub, a pair of Aurors following them from a distance. 

Bill threw an arm around Ron and Harry, making them both stagger and lag a little behind.

‘I’m sorry about the other night.’

‘I know, Bill, it’s okay. It’s alright now.’

‘Still, you should know that we’re very proud of you and-‘

‘Please, spare me.’ Ron said, ears burning, awkward but pleased all the same. ‘ George made his point. You made your point. Hell, even Percy made his point. Can we give it a rest ?’

Bill stopped in his track, fixing Ron with the exact calculating look George suffered three days earlier. Satisfied with what he found there, he slapped Ron on the back once, hard, before smiling. 

‘Excellent. Now, I know the ministry gave you three a nice reward, and I haven’t got a single nut on me.’ With that, he caught up to Charlie, busy overhead constructing the most elaborate guilt trip to convince Percy not to turn back.

‘I knew it.’ Ron said, stretching his back, but smiling. ‘Good thing Hermione lent me some muggle money.’

George was on his forth drink, loud music he didn’t know blaring in his ear, when he discovered Harry was a delightfully truthful chatterbox while drunk. It sounded, at the time, like the best idea make a game out of it. It lead to some colourful revelations, ranging from “Cho was pretty, but snogging felt being stuck in a permanent rain forest.” to “Voldemort was the worst kind of slutty gold-digger in the history of wrinkly men.” in an interestingly steep downslope.

‘I thought Bill was so _cool_ when I first saw him.’ Harry said over the noise, with a sign, after a lengthy song of praise dedicated to Mum’s cooking and a second to Ginny’s nice flowery hair, syllables smashed together, mainly fueled by whiskey and fumes at that point. ‘ Ginny’s prettier, obviously, but Bill's so charismatic, defi-defini-for sure.’

Concerned party was thrusting out his chest, while Ron was snickering, enjoying Harry’s low tolerance to anything stronger than pale ale.

‘’n me ?’

‘Don’t count. You’re my wheezy, that’s like, cheating.’

Charlie made sure, he knew, to keep Percy’s cup full at all times. George, for his part, kept ordering more expensive and gaudy drinks by the minute to get a rise out of Ron, which worked for a delightful couple of hours, and lost all its savor once said brother started chortling at everything and anything in sight. Harry had embarked by now in a declaration of eternal devoted friendship to Ron and Hermione, ruined by Ron’s incessant nodding and high-pitched giggling. 

‘We should make toasts.’ Bill bellowed, cutting off Harry, ‘I start, to my legendary charisma!’ he said, lifting his pint to the skies and narrowly missing dousing George with it’s content. They all took a good gulp of whatever was in their cups. Percy looked up from the table, eyes unfocused. 

‘To Fudge’s demotion !’ He slurred, and George let a roar of laughter that made the nice young ladies two booths left jump out of their skins.

‘To Harry’s Gringotts Vault!’

‘To Grinffindor !’

‘To dragons and Romania !’

‘To Fleur siding with us !'

‘To Muggle Alcohol !’

‘To Mum’s cooking !’

‘To Hogwarts’ Quidditch Pitch !’

‘To Hermione’s brains ! and her hair ! and her nice skin ! and her brains !’ 

‘To Neville’s frog !’

‘ To the cauldron new reg- reg - regulations !

‘To Ginny winning the house cup !’

‘To the end of the war !’ Harry shouted. His outstretched arm was trembling, and his glasses were askew, but George thought he had a strange, sudden clarity about him. ‘To the end of the war, and being happy, somewhat, finally.’

All six of them rose their glasses up, silently, and poured what was left down their throats. Percy slammed down his cup on the wooden, sticky table, and rose slowly to his feet. He was darting his eyes left and right as if expecting the world to tilt at any given moment. 

‘And now, dear brothers, I must leave you, for I must dance.’ 

The moment was broken. He strode as confidently as a man wearing shoes three sizes too big towards the center of the pub, where nobody but him was bopping to the overbearing music. By joint agreement, they all burrowed deeper into their seats, Harry’s word still ringing in their ears and contenting themselves with the marvelous display of Percy breaking all hell loose in a great effort of elbows and knees. 

Ron, by George side, had a faraway look in his eyes. That wouldn't do. He nudged him with his shoulder, rougher than he intended. Ron glanced back at him, smiled and gestured absentmindedly for another round for everybody. Flopping back down, he patted George’s knee, eyes blurry. 

‘Thanks for last time. You’re right. Was afraid you’d never forgive me, though.’

He reached for his glass once it was put in front of him, surprised it was there, almost like he had completely forgotten how he’d ordered it himself. With a happy sight, he brought the cup to his lips, downing half of it on his jeans. Unperturbed, he continued : 

‘I see it better now, what you said, about everybody. 'm different. Locket can go to hell. I _beat_ it.’ He suddenly guffawed hard, startling him. ‘Look, Perce’s turning green !’

Harry, who’d been busy teaching a new, improvised version of ‘Weasley is our king’ To Bill and Charlie, twisted around to watch the show. With the dopiest grin George ever saw, he said flatly, like an universal fact : 

‘He’s such a horrible dancer. Did you know he’s not my favourite Weasley ?’

‘Alright.’ Bill said over the roaring laughter with great difficulty, holding back snickers of his own. ‘Time for our public launching back home. Let’s pay and move out.’ But George barely geard him, watching Ron still. 

Wrestling Percy into leaving was not an easy task, and when they reached the Burrow followed by very exasperated Aurors, his face has flickered over all the colours of the rainbow, undecided. He was silently following along, helped by Charlie, not joining on their atrocious reedition of Weasley is our king, not a single one of them singing the same words at the same time. 

‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ?!’ Mum’s yell echoed out from the open door, powerful enough to make one of the two Aurors behind take a step back, and the other to freeze as if he was the one orchestrating the mischief himself.

‘ONLY THE GIRLS LEFT - YOU’RE ALL TARGETS, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING - I WAS BESIDE MYSELF WITH WORRY - DID YOU CARE AT ALL?!’

Just like that, all the merriment was extinguished in a heartbeat. Ron and Harry gazed hopefully up when Hermione came by the door frame, behind Mum, but were disappointed to see her cross her arms and not fly to their aid, the area surrounding her left eye still a little red at the edges. 

‘Mum, it was just a bit of fun, of bonding moment, Merlin knows we all need it. Hermione must have told you.’ Bill said, sobering up quickly. 

‘AND YOU !’ She jammed a finger in Bill’s chest. ‘DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DID WITH FLEUR - GETTING ME OUT OF THE WAY - I WILL PUT A TRACING CHARM ON YOU, ALL OF YOU - DON’T THINK I WON’T ! ’

It went on for what seemed like years ; Mum didn’t let the threat of going completely hoarse deter her. Sober, George couldn’t stand for it, but drunk it seemed like an ethereal experience. His vision was swimming a little, going back again and again to Ron’s little confession back in the pub, before refocusing on his mother’s red face. 

‘MUM !’ Ron yelled, holding his hands up to pacify her, the gesture slightly ruined by his swaying. ‘Don’t be so mean. You’re not a mean Mum, right, Harry ?’

Harry nodded with enthusiasm, until a retch made him think better of it. 

‘Look, we needed to get out a little, have a breather, and we had the Aurors with us too.’ Ron waved clumsily somewhere behind him, accidentally hitting Charlie on the chest.

‘As if two _quivering_ Aurors can be of any help !’ Said Aurors did not take offense at all, apparently, still rooted to their spots. George saw one of them choke on thin air when Mum’s fiery glare zeroed on him. 

‘But _mum_ , we’re powerful too’ Ron said, shaking Harry by the shoulders, bringing him forward, like demonstrating a brand new, over-performant broom. ‘Most of the bad guys are locked away, anyway, so no harm done. I promise we were careful, we even went to the muggle side of the village.’

Cheers for Ron making sense even three sheets to the wind. But Mum was still seething, and Harry’s face was quickly turning the colour of freshly washed white linens. With alarm, George watched as Harry opened his mouth.

‘Sorry, Mum, we won’t do it again.’ 

Excellent. Right through the heart. Exactly when George was thinking a little betrayal - and a capitalization on Ron and Harry’s inebriety - was a small price to pay to make it all stop : his head was starting to throb painfully. Mum looked like she stumbled on a rock, though perfectly still.

‘Oh, hum- yes, yes, I hope you won’t do something so irresponsible again.’

It sounded more like a question than a threat. Luckily for her, nobody’s head was clear enough to notice the difference. Harry nodded again, incapable of speech or shame in his crash back down to earth. 

‘See mummy, see, you’re so nice when you want to.’ Ron said, approaching to squeeze his mother cheeks between his hands, back to giggles again, if a little subdued. Making sense only last so long, after all. ‘That’s why we love you. Now you can get your present !’ 

Brilliant, final nail in the coffin. The possibility of escaping Mum's wrath unscathed was getting bigger, almost within reach.

‘What ?’ Mum asked.

‘Not now, mummy, my head hurts.’ Ron took Harry by the hand, dragging him to Hermione’s height, taking her hand as well, oblivious to the mix of amusement and bewilderedness spreading in the assembly, or to Hermione blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘We’re going to bed. Ginny can’t come. She can’t get her present, either, she’s been mean.’

And with those words, they left. 

George, knowing a good opportunity when he saw one, tried to make for the door. However, before he could move a toe, Mum came back to her senses in full force. 

‘And _him_ !’ She said, waving at Percy. ‘ I trusted him at least to be responsible, _what happened to him ?_ ’ 

‘Peer pressure.’ Percy answered simply.

Stunned to silence, Mum took a few seconds to regain back her balance, her voice full of dark promises. 

‘Their will be absolutely no hang over potion for any of you, for starters. You won’t be able to get it from the girls, either.’

She left them like that, aligned on the doorstep, supporting a wobbling Percy. The silence stretched for a long while before Charlie broke it, fearfully : 

‘ ‘ _For starters_ ’ ?’

Percy thought that exact instant perfectly opportune to promptly throw up on the yellowing grass, and a little bit on Bill’s shoes to boot.

Well, At least George got that brilliant image out of his evening. 

Maybe he could even make a Patronus out of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear all !  
> Listen, this chapter was so difficult to write, for so many reasons.  
> First of all, how do you guys manages to write George in character ? I tried, I swear I did, We only have so many things in the books that can give us a clue about how he acts like when NOT being up to no good.  
> Second of all, I had exactly zero time to breath, let alone sit down and WRITE these past few days ! I'm very sorry for being late. 
> 
> Let me tell you, stuck up people are the funniest to be around when pissed. As such, nobody can convince me Percy is not a silly drunk . Also, I'm a firm believer in the image of happy-drunk Ron and truth-dropper-drunk Harry. Drunk Hermione, I can see it in my minds eye, can and will fight you. They are CHAOTIC when unsupervised, please don't let them go have fun alone. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you like this one, and it wasn't too mushy and/or OOC. Now, I'm off to sleep.
> 
> Next up : * in tune with that famous spice girl song * DO YOU WANNA BE AN AUROR ?


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